Jesse and Rakov sat on a large log, which probably blew down during a winter storm. The wagon and horses were tied up, about forty yards from the area where the wolves had been attacked. They did those partly, not to further spook the horses, but primarily so as not to disturb the scene.
Rakov insisted they not disturb or trudge through the immediate area where the attack took place, explaining that the less they disturbed it, the better they could get an accurate idea of what had happened.
They both sat staring at the scene, smoking hand-rolled cigarettes. By now, they’d gotten past the initial shock of seeing the mutilated pack, the sight of the gore and intestines, which were now, for the most part, frozen. They’d even gotten used to the stench; which still lingered although days had passed.
“It is incredible how well preserved the remains are,” Rakov finally muttered.
They counted seven wolves, arriving at this number by counting heads. The scattered arms and clumps of flesh and fur were too numerous to try to count.
“It is uncanny,” Jesse said. “It’s almost even beautiful in a weird kind of way. Maybe beautiful is the wrong word.”
“Intricate, I believe, is the word you are looking for,” Rakov said.
“Yes, that’s a good word for it,” Jesse said. “It’s very exact. It’s not as chaotic as it first appears.”
“No, once you get past the carnage there are patterns,” Rakov said. “However, there are missing pieces too. I blame that on the snow that has fallen since the attack happened.”
Rakov pointed with a small stick and said, “Look there, and there and there. You can still see where some of the animals were killed, or at least where they lost the most amount of blood. But most of the tracks are obliterated.”
“Yeah I noticed that,” Jesse said. “Without tracks, it makes it almost impossible to tell what really happened.”
“Difficult, perhaps, but not impossible,” Rakov said, sighing.
“You notice anything else weird about all of this Rakov,” Jesse said. “Just think about it. Look around good and think on it.”
“There is something, but I haven’t been able to put my finger on it,” Rakov said. “In fact, it was the first thing I noticed; or haven’t noticed as the case may be.”
“It’s so obvious you’re going to kick yourself when you realize it,” Jesse said. “I’ll give you a hint. It’s not something that’s here, it’s something that’s not here.”
“Scavengers,” Rakov exclaimed. “Not a single scavenger has been here. I know it is cold, but it doesn’t even look like insects have visited.”
“Yeah,” Jesse said. “It hasn’t been much colder here than it has been in town, but think about that wagon full of dead wolves. There were flies buzzing all over them.”
“That is true,” Rakov agreed. “But something, whether a bear, a bird, even rodents, should be here feasting. But they haven’t been.”
“Why not?” asked Jesse. “Is it fear? Does it look so terrible, other animals would stay away?”
“Of course not,” Rakov said, “Most animals do not see, as we see. Most animals rely on smell, but it does not discount fear.”
“You mean, it smells so bad, other animals are afraid to come here?” Jesse asked.
“Perhaps, but I think there is more to it than that,” Rakov said, standing up and loading his rifle, his eyes scanning the area.
But he wasn’t looking directly at the place where the wolves were slaughtered, which for the most part, was on the trail. Jesse watched Rakov and he realized what the Russian was thinking.
“Nothing’s been here because our wolf didn’t leave the area,” Jesse said. “It’s not the smell of death that’s scared everything off. They’ve smelled our wolf.”
“Exactly,” Rakov said, his eyes falling on a large tangle of brush and fallen trees off to the left. “Come, follow me, but carefully.”
Jesse readied his rifle too and the two men crouched, making their way quietly off the trail towards the thicket. In the distance, the horses whinnied, and Jesse cursed under his breath. If the wolf was laid up there, the horses racket was bound to send it rushing off.
Rakov pointed to some snarled vines to their left, where tufts of fur still clung, blowing gently, swaying in the breeze.
“Look there,” Rakov said, still whispering, although he wasn’t crouched any more. “If its still here, it could be dangerous.”
Jesse nodded and the two men closed the distance to the thicket. There was a spot there, underneath a heavy clump of brush, where an animal had nestled.
“It’s gone,” Rakov said. “But I’m getting a clearer picture of what happened.”
“Yeah, me too,” said Jesse. “They come up on her here.”
“What did you say?” Rakov said.
“I said they come up on her here,” Jesse said.
“You said her,” Rakov said.
“Yeah, I guess I did,” Jesse said.
“Why?” Rakov asked, insistent.
“I don’t know,” Jesse said. “It’s just a feeling I’ve had now for some time. Remember yesterday when you were asking me how I knew things about this wolf. This is just one of those examples I reckon. I told the kid about it when we were still on the trail. Is it important?”
“I don’t know, perhaps, perhaps not,” Rakov said, shrugging. “I guess it’s too soon yet to tell. But go on, finish what you were going to say.”
“She, it, whatever, was holed up here,” Jesse said. “This is where the pack came up on her. Look at the other vines, different types of fur. They were surrounding her. I’m just going to call it her.”
Rakov nodded.
“I’m guessing she came out here, probably trying to warn them away,” Jesse said. “It’s tight right here, too tangled for them to take turns going at her like a pack would do when they attack an animal. They probably flanked her, and drove her out into the open.”
“Unless it was the other way around,” Rakov said.
“What do you mean?” asked Jesse.
“I think she drew them out into the open,” Rakov said.
Jesse mulled this over and nodded.
“Well, whatever happened, she came back here after the fight,” Jesse said. “There’s blood where she was laying.”
Rakov bent down, looking closer at the spot where the wolf had rested and stuck his finger in the blood.
“It’s not warm any more but it’s not frozen either like the blood and gore out there on the trail where the fight happened,” Rakov said.
“That means she hasn’t made it far yet,” Jesse said. “To look at that spot, you’d think she’d lost a lot of blood. But there ain’t no blood trail anywhere.”
“No, I don’t see one either,” Rakov said. “It may not be actively bleeding. We need to look for places where she may have stopped to rest. My guess is that we’ll find blood in those places, in places where she’s rested.”
They walked south, parallel to the trail and about a hundred yards out they found such a place.
“There,” said Jesse.
“Lets keep moving,” Rakov said. “Make sure she hasn’t backtracked.”
They walked on. After another hundred yards, they found another spot, a slight indentation, this time in the snow. There was blood there. They kept going, this time further, but still found another resting spot.
“Distance between the spots is getting longer,” Jesse said. “She’s healing, getting stronger.”
“It’s going to be dark soon,” Rakov said. “We’re not going to be able to follow this trail much longer.”
“Well, we know she’s going south,” Jesse said. “Trail’s that way. We should walk straight there from here and then mark it.”
They did and when they emerged on the main trail, they were a good mile ahead of the horses and wagon. They walked back, turned the wagon back around and started to make their way back home.
“We’re going to lose her blood trail if it snows tonight,” Rakov said.
“Yeah, I reckon we will,” Jesse said. “But we know which way she’s going. I guess we just need to be happy knowing that.”
Neither man said what they were truly thinking though. They probably passed the wolf on their way in that morning.
